#anyways done with this useless math

[nerdneeniya]

You'd need roughly 2,406,417,112,300 pieces of paper, which would take about 29,893,381 trees, which is to say, a lot of trees, but if we got everyone on earth in on it, we'd each only need to print 300 pages.

Maximum PDF document size supported by Adobe Acrobat.

15 million inches by 15 million inches, to be precise.

by Udzu                                        

[certified-shellfishhater]

fuck vectors guys. fuck vectors and their 3 dimensions and their endless number of rules and their stupid dots and stupid scalars and their stupid areas of triangles.

[clovernet]

nsfw mdni

nerd!kento who groaned when he found out he had to tutor you, the college's queen bee and all around mean bitch. not like you were happy about it either, your precious weekends were being taken away from you, all because of some measly grades. goodbye getting paralytic on a saturday, hello boring nerd with a boring-er voice.

nerd!kento who looked you up and down with a judgemental look when you arrived almost an hour late to your first session, chewing your gum loudly, your scandalously short miniskirt and croptop barely appropriate for a library.

nerd!kento who didn't notice how you stared at his face the whole time he was reading from a textbook, studying him from his glasses to his jaw. you didn't know your tutor was gonna be fine...you could work with this!

nerd!kento who tensed when you placed a manicured hand on his lap, leaning closer to him with faux innocence. you claimed to not understand what he was explaining, and asked him questions you both knew you didn't really care about. his face didn't change though, and he answered all your questions without missing a beat.

nerd!kento who quickly got used to this routine of you showing up in the skimpiest outfit you could find and finding excuses to touch him unnecessarily during your sessions. you were starting to think it was useless, he must be gay or a monk or something since he wasn't reacting. oh, but he was.

nerd!kento who left every session with a raging hard on he had to take care of privately. he was embarrassed, but the scent of your sugary perfume combined with your tits in his face everytime he turned to look at you made him harder than any math equation. even when he jerked off at home, that sugary scent would somehow find a way into his brain.

nerd!kento who snapped randomly one day, the sight of your tits almost hanging out suddenly too much for him. against all logical thoughts, he dragged you to the library bathroom, much to your confusion.

nerd!kento who's attitude definitely matched his dick size. you barely had time to gasp before his slapped his meat across your face with a grunt. "open." and oh boy did you open. that thing had you dicknotized.

nerd!kento who punctuated every thrust with a growl; "this is what you wanted, yeah? trying to– fuck, trying to seduce me with those pretty tits? you think i don't notice your hands on me every session?" as he pounded into your throat, his other hand firm in your hair. "thank god your throat's not as stupid as your brain, huh?"

nerd!kento who barely let you up for air, his hand pushing your head down until you gagged, like he was trying to mold your throat into the shape of his dick. you could feel every inch and every vein of his unnecessarily thick cock.

nerd!kento who pulled out of your mouth so he could finish on your tits, his hips jerking as he stroked his thick cock, his cum splurting all over your cleavage and neck.

nerd!kento who silently put his dick away before leaving the stall. you thought it was over until he came back with some wet paper towels and began softly dabbing at the cum stained areas. more than most of the guys you've hooked up with had done.

nerd!kento who let out a small apology before telling you that you dont have to come to the sessions if you don't want to, and he'll tell the dean you attended.

nerd!kento who left out a sound of shock when you stop him from leaving the stall and ask him for a marker. you write your number down on his forearm. "call me."

a/n: kento nanami the world will know of u. anyway i have this really vivid vision of emo nanami in college so thats what this is based on and if i ever write about college nanami again u bet it will be emo nanami i love you emo nanami!!!!

[quasi-normalcy]

So, in science & technology studies, one of the words we throw around is "scientization," the act of making something into a science. And, you know, a lot of this is good, or at least neutral: the scientization of medicine; the scientization of cosmology; it means that a field has gotten more rigourous and definitive than it used to be.

But in politics, what scientization often means is that something that should be a policy issue is kicked over to scientists as a means of naturalizing or normalizing it, exempting it from normal political debate, or avoiding responsibility for unpopular decisions. "Oh, we needed to bomb this place because our models said it would end the war faster"; "Oh, we needed to privatize this service because our economists said it would save us money"; etc. And a lot of the debate in the field of science policy is given over to the question of when is it legitimate to kick something over to scientists, and in what contexts, because it's often kind of arbitrary. Like, I think that anyone who takes climate change seriously believes that science needs to inform the response to it, but you can build whatever assumptions you want to into your models, and the math will gobble them up indifferently; and Western liberal governments have overwhelmingly chosen to imagine scenarios where we can just keep doing capitalism because magical new "carbon capture" technologies will probably be invented down the line, and cap-and-trade will probably work perfectly, and anything that might be lost due to climate change can be straightforwardly assigned a monetary value and compensated, and refugees from desertification and rising sea levels will probably just not exist and so on. [Obligatory reminder that Climate Change is way worse than pretty much anyone in mainstream politics is willing to admit]

And anyways, I think that a special case of this "scientization-as-political-bullshit" phenomenon is at play in the field of polling. Like, consider Kamala Harris's entire campaign (or if you prefer, practically any neoliberal politician's campaign anywhere in the world since 2008 or so). This was a campaign where seemingly every decision was kicked over to pollsters. Can't call conservatives weirdos--you might offend moderates! Can't call on Israel to stop bombing Gaza--you might offend moderates! Can't stand up for transgender rights--you might offend moderates! Can't call for single-payer healthcare--you might offend moderates! And so on, and so forth. In every case, it's trying to do politics without being political, and it's doing so by embedding a bunch of incredibly insidious assumptions into models and then calling it science! Like, maybe "moderate" voters would get on board with a ceasefire, or trans rights, or single-payer healthcare, if a prominent politician with a billion-dollar war chest to get her message out fucking tried to make a case for it! Like, remember when the overwhelming majority of Americans opposed gay marriage? I do! I wonder why that changed? Or, for that matter, why courting moderates--as all of these models seem to assume--should necessarily be a higher priority than inspiring disenchanted voting-age adults to turn out at all?

And I worry I'm making this sound like innocent incompetence--it's not. This was done very specifically and very intentionally to foreclose upon discussion of progressive priorities while saying that you're being scientific; while saying that you are, ridiculously, being apolitical when a running a political campaign. And now we have these useless, disingenuous assholes patting themselves on the back and saying that this campaign was never winnable! Because the "SCIENCE" says so!

And meanwhile, you have Donald Trump--idiot nazi bastard thug child of a demon and a swine Donald Trump, cursed be his name--bowling through the political scene like a bull in a china shop, utterly indifferent to all of these fancy-schmancy mathematical models and too stupid to understand them...and winning enormously! Making his own coalition. Because thick as he may be, ignorant as he may be, incurious as he may be, he at least knows one single solitary thing that the Democrats don't: Politics isn't science; it's magic. And you don't get anywhere in magic without the will to power.

[starberry-cupcake]

if my silly recaps and my reactions bring a small smile to your face or remind you of a book you love in these trying times, it's all worth it ♥ I'm hugging you softly and telling you I'm here for you ♥

previously, in harrowcita del 9:

this happened

EPIPARODOS

9 months and 29 days before the emperor's murder

I need you all to know I'm reading all of these announcements of time stamps for the emperor's murder like this

I spent these past 2 days marinating on this time stamp and making math in my head with the fact that harrow told palmolive that he's been in his river loft for 8 months

and being like "is this gonna be the Explanation????"

sort of

remember when I said harrow was probably the one who did the mind tampering or, at least, it was done with her consent?

I WAS CORRECT

I also said maybe it had to do with the emperor and his murder but that's not yet been clarified

harrow is asking yandere twin to help her do a brain procedure to forget stuff

for reasons that will be partially disclosed later

basically, it's like if she was asking her to cut her hair for her, but more metal

yandere twin also sort of dunks on palmolive and harrow goes like "you wash your third house filthy mouth before talking about my bestie palmolive sextus like that"

she didn't say that word by word, she said "I may have been Sextus's necromantic superior; but he was the better man. You are not even so worthy of that brain as to wipe its bloodied remnants from the wall."

which is kinda similar in concept

camilla would have high-fived her for that one

yandere twin is trying to convince harrow not to do the brain hair cut because it's dangerous and potentially useless

as if that has ever stopped someone from the ninth from doing crazy shit

harrow tells yandere twin that if she thinks becoming a lyctor doesn't mean they're more trapped than ever, she's delulu

harrow also exhibits one golden eye

and I'm like WAS GIDEON SLURPED IN THE END???? I WAS HOLDING OUT FOR HOPE!!!!

yandere twin says "time to absolutely fuck you up"

cue brain makeover montage with this song

please imagine it with that song, I need you to see my vision

I swear it's very important

I didn't mention it before but this chapter was narrated by yandere twin

sponsored by chad aka babs aka nebarius...was it nebarius or naberius? anyway

she says that harrow's brain makeover is a "destructive, romantic, ridiculous act"

I sure hope so

she also says she's gonna marry harrow, but probably not

I sure hope not, because it's not my ship, yandere twin, I'm sorry

I like you, but not for harrow

ACT FIVE

CHAPTER 40, 41, 42

I'm grouping these all together because they're a ~theme~

the fact that the titles of them are like ?????????? is very much the spirit of these recaps

thank you, author, I see your vision

these are other aus, much like the canaan house gideon-less au, but with different scenarios

first au has a broken IX skull, it takes place in the ninth and harrow is called "nova" instead of "nonagesimus"

in it, she's fighting ortus, or attempting to

because harrow wants ortus to give her the spot of cavalier primary

which is very regina george twin and chad behavior, they had a similar situation going on, but they resolved it with biting

as you do in the third house

(I just wached a yt video in which a person was called 'babs' and they said the name so many times it's starting to make me want to name chad correctly)

(it's fixing my brain)

she also mentions a Reverend Daughter who isn't her

she doesn't seem to like the other reverend daughter, even if she stepped in to intercede for her at one time, and ortus and her argue about it until crux comes in

it's giving gideon and harrow switching spots, in a way, although gideon never wanted to be cavalier primary

neither did ortus

regina george twin is the only one fighting for that spot

she is made to go and apologize to two pilgrims standing there and, when she does, it's abby and magnus from the fifth

and abby says "this isn't how it happens"

our favorite phrase

next au has a V broken skull and takes place in a ball

there is a Divine Highness who is looking for a bride and this is a dance to present suitors to her

the sixth house isn't dancing or joining in on the party, wich is another tick on my personal checklist of my favorite house

idk if there's a quiz of which house you're in but I hope I'm that one

*me getting the second and having to erase my memory like harrow*

abby and magnus show up once again and magnus is eating the food and complimenting harrow on how accurate it is

ortus is with them too, because polycule

they all wanted to see where this au led (actually, me too) but, you know what they say

say it with me:

"this isn't how it happens"

42 is a broken IV skull

this one is, at the start, a sort of military au

the kiddies from the fourth show up, remember them?

they're still talking in whispers among themselves

so cute ♥ I'd say protect them at all costs, but we already failed at that

the important part of this one is that it turns from a military au into a coffee shop au

and there's a BARI star (puns!)

"the arms beneath the rolled-up sleeves betrayed lean, taut muscle, a little dewy with sweat and steam from the mess. But it was the face that sent her neurons in a thalergetic spin. When Harrowhark looked at that face, she found a curious heat travelling all the way up from the pit of her pylorus to the high collar of her Cohort shirt. It then traversed her cheeks, her nose, her brow, her temples. The other officer smiled a firm-jawed, long, crooked smile at her; Harrow was electrified by the fact that beneath the hastily brushed crop of red hair those eyes were—"

(the fact that my playlist started 2 become 1 from the spice girls right now is actually incredibly funny)

AND ABBY GOES "Absolutely not"

ABBY NOOOOOOOOOO

ABBY LET ME HAVE THISSSSSSSS

LET ME HAVE A COFFEE SHOP AU INTERLUDE AS A TREAT

I DESERVE IT

WE ALL DESERVE IT

CHAPTER 43

GIDEON FRACTURED SKULL PEOPLE

AVIATOR GLASSES, CROSSED OUT IX, CRACKED SKULL

one night before the emperor's murder

we're connecting the timelines

ortus's polycule is arguing about the previous scenarios and whether or not "that was..." while harrow wakes up

abby promptly shoos everyone out of the room

FOLKS LISTEN TO THIS NOW

LISTEN TO THISSSSSSS

"If I forget you, let my right hand be forgotten. Add more also, if aught but death part me and thee. Griddle."

I'M IN P A I N

I'M IN S H A M B L E S

(my playlist decided on hoobastank's the reason now lmao what is happening with the 90s/early2000s playlist tonight)

OK OK EXPOSITION TIME

sort of, you know how it is

harrow remembers gideon and cries for her as we all do

abby is asking her questions and gives her one minute to mourn

so, harrowcita decided to do the hair cut brain procedure to separate the part of her brain that remembered and understood gideon's soul

accoding to her, it was "a brute-force solution but it worked"

very gideon behavior, we love that

abby points out that harrow is also very much haunted by an invasive soul

harrow's like ?????????????????????????? on top of everything else?????????

I'm wondering if this is ice cube barbie????? not sure

abby explains that harrow is possessed by an angry spirit and that she's losing against it

ice cube barbie sure has reason to be angry if she wants to, she had to put up with doctor reverend emperor john's bs

also, the canaan au is harrow's form of palmolive's bachelor loft, the bubble in the river thing

she made an au in the river and brought on all her ghostie ghoulie friends to populate it

abby tells her that she didn't remove her memories of gideon, she re-wrote and re-touched them with ortus, which is why he was invited, and she also filled in spaces of some people (people who weren't dead) with constructs

harrow says "what a waste of a woman, to have ended her life at the bottom of a ladder"

RIGHT???? she was killed so book 1 could be longer, otherwise it would have been solved in 2 minutes, no wonder she's the top in the polycule

apparently also a lot of what's happening at this canaan au has been modified by this invasive spirit that's haunting harrow

harrowcita tells abby who's alive, abby says regina george twin should have been the lyctor

NOW WAIT A MINUTE THERE

yandere twin and I don't see eye to eye on everything but I get defensive if someone's trashing her abilities in comparison to her sister

also "The Master Warden found the idea of dying inconvenient"

I love that chad catches a lot of strays when he isn't there but palmolive gets a lot of compliments when he isn't there

did they ever interact one on one btw? I don't remember, it feels like a jock vs nerd situation

wait, are they a ship???

why am I asking this now IT'S NOT THE TIME

harrow starts quoting gideon ♥ "as her—cavalier—might have put it, absolutely butt-fuck nothing happened"

we love that, so poetic

harrowcita basically can't leave her canaan bubble now because she's in the river due to the fight that was going on with the beast and whatnot

abby says that the canaan au happens when harrow is asleep, unconscious or just disconnected from outside stimuli

harrow tells her about the beast and how she was brochetted out there

abby says that she's not dead yet because, if she was, her soul would be gone forever and they need to ensure her body survives

harrow asks herself "what is happening out there?"

WOULDN'T WE LIKE TO KNOW

BUT WE WON'T KNOW YET

because I have immense willpower and knew this was the right time to stop reading, otherwise this recap would be awfully long

gonna put "strong willpower" in my cv to see if the sixth house accepts me

see you in the next one very soon!!! be safe and take care of yourselves ♥

[serpentarius]

been trying to wrap my head around the cancellation of "Our Flag Means Death" and why it hurts so fucking much. lots of folks who are much more eloquent than I have summed it up perfectly, but I still think it’s important I add my voice to the matter. 

It really, really sucks that the hurt is being compounded on us every time another queer/minority-led show gets prematurely cancelled. and for a long while, we also had to deal with the many shows that deliberately queerbaited us, which was a shitty and traumatic experience unto its own. And even though we’ve largely surpassed that early-‘00s-flavoured brand of queerbait now, mainstream queer media is still predominantly white-led. With the cancellation of OFMD, we've lost one of the very few intersectional queer shows in the mainstream. Shouldn’t we be beyond asking for crumbs at this point? Shouldn’t we get unabashedly intersectional shows helmed by and starring queer, BIPOC, and trans folks without them being axed for no rhyme or reason?

It’s exhausting at this point, honestly. OFMD has done so well in terms of viewership and engagement and fan response—almost entirely due to word of mouth and little thanks to the Max marketing team, mind you—and even still the show got cancelled? Can they make it make sense????

For me, the thing most akin to this OFMD situation was when Sense8 got cancelled. And yes, the fandom fought, and we eventually DID get a movie that wrapped things up years later! That gives me hope for OFMD, that maybe another network will pick it up, or maybe they’ll be able to make a movie someday. But what makes me sad about cases like Sense8 is knowing that the creators still had to force the narrative around the amount of time they were given. That the corporate overlords who only care about numbers and profit dictated how much time they had to wrap up their story.

And it fucking kills me that DJ only wanted one more season. One more season to complete the vision.

I'm just so mad that queer people are constantly being jerked around and used for profit and then left high and dry. And then we're given excuses like "oh there's no budget" or "oh there's not enough viewership, that's all it is". like, sure, maybe those are contributing factors, but then I look at all the useless garbage shows that have little viewership and high budgets that keep going forever and then I think "hmmmm, the math ain't mathing." It's fucking transparent; the corporations can spew all they want with their rainbow capitalism and talks about diversity, but the evidence is clear, and they can't convince me homophobia/racism/transphobia/etc. is not a factor in these decisions.

Anyways, back to OFMD. OFMD made me fall in love with fandom again. I drifted away from fandom for a while in my 20s, and while OFMD wasn't the first fandom that drew me back into the madness, it's certainly the largest. The sheer amount of creativity both within the show and outside of it has blown me away; I've read some of the best fics, seen some of the best art, and witnessed some of the most incredible creativity from people in this fandom.

And let's not forget the role of the show's creators and how they've interacted with us fans. They made us feel seen. And made us feel loved and valid, even when we were being weird and loud and horny. It's so fucking rare to see that. But they understood; understood that the show they made was for us, for any of us who've been marginalized or made to feel Othered or different or stuck in life or unsure of our identities. And they gave us so much love for it.

The story... man. The unique combination of quirky humour and bright visuals and dark, introspective moments, the gorgeous costumes and soft, lovely, unabashed queerness, and veteran actors and new actors all getting to shine, brilliant comedic actors getting to show off their dramatic chops and vice versa. For me, seeing Rhys Darby - an actor I've loved for a long time, but who I never thought I'd see in a leading role - getting to be the romantic lead in a queer role? And seeing acclaimed director/producer/screenwriter/actor Taika Waititi play opposite Rhys, as an indigenous Blackbeard? Fucking incredible. OFMD Edward Teach you will always be famous to me.

Anyways... despite my long ramblings here, I still don’t think I've been able to get to the root of WHY exactly this show has inched its way under my skin and stayed with me in the way it has. Maybe I'll spend years trying to understand it. But I DO know that it's in part to do with seeing both older queers AND a diverse range of queerness onscreen, in a way that I've never seen in media before. I DO know that OFMD has forced me to look inwardly, and allowed me to realize some important things about myself. About my own queerness, my own identity, things I'm still figuring out. I've cherished being able to see myself in Stede, in Ed, and each of the crew members. In Roach’s love for cooking, in Oluwande’s ability to mediate; in Jim’s quick temper, in the way Izzy builds walls to guard his heart. In Buttons’ quirkiness, in Wee John’s sass, in Frenchie’s ability to turn pain into humour; in The Swede’s silliness, in Lucius’ bluntness, in Pete’s soft heart beneath the skepticism. Lastly, OFMD has inspired me. To create, to write, to draw, to devour other peoples' works and worlds while I sit in sheer, overflowing joyousness at their talent.

so yeah. the news of this cancellation is upsetting and hurtful and disappointing. And it's making us cry, and it's making us grieve, and may make us hollow and numb at times because we've lost yet another thing we love so deeply before it was meant to go. It's so much more than "just a TV show". It means more to us than any passive mindless idiotic mind-numbing bullshit - because even though there's a time and a place and a purpose for that type of media, it's the thought-provoking work, the work that creators pour their entire hearts and souls into, that hit us deep in our own souls. The work that changes our lives. The work that has the ability to save lives, as I know OFMD has done for so many. 

please know I'm sending immense amounts of love and strength to those of you who are also hurting. we'll get through this, one way or another, and I'll keep up with the hope that we'll get more someday; but in the meantime, I'm holding you tight. ❤️️🫂

[macgyvermedical]

Have you seen "Arrow 2012" 1x14 episode? What you think about it?

I could have sworn I had done this. Like, to the point where a while back I put it on a list of episodes I'd done but couldn't provide a link because I couldn't find it. But I still can't find it anywhere. So I must not have done it?

Anyway, here you go:

The plot of the episode is that Oliver's mother shoots him while he is interrogating her about the death of his father. He is shot either in the perfectly reasonable and survivable-without-a-hospital trapezius muscle, or the not-so-survivable upper left chest, depending on what part of the episode you are watching.

He gets himself to Felicity's car and orders her to take him to his father's old factory in the Glades, where he has set up his base of operations. By the time she gets there Oliver is unconscious. Diggle takes over his care.

Before I start, just know I know it's a TV show. But, like, the medicine is BAD. And I'm gonna talk about it. My belief is NOT suspended here.

Thoughts:

It's really clean. Like, if someone's shot and they're bleeding enough to make them unconscious, it's quite literally a bloodbath. It's everywhere. We're talking a liter and a half of blood outside of his body for someone Oliver's size. All the blood we see (from the floor in his mother's office, and what is on him when Diggle starts to work on him) might be 30-50ml. Like, maybe he lost more in Felicity's car, but even that would be smeared all over him.

The blood storage would be logistically impossible. The first thing Diggle does when Oliver gets to him is pull out some fresh bags of blood. And there's like 6-8 of those bags visible in the refrigerated drawer. He mentions that it's Oliver's own blood that he has stored "for a rainy day".

As a refresher, blood loss (whether donation or from a gunshot wound) causes 2 (main) problems: volume loss and oxygen carrying capacity loss. Volume loss is a problem because it drops blood pressure and causes shock, but you can replace volume by infusing saline or another IV fluid. Oxygen carrying capacity loss is loss of the red blood cells, which carry the oxygen from the lungs to the cells of the body. Losing a lot of red blood cells means that the amount of oxygen the blood is carrying at any one time is reduced. The body can compensate for this by increasing the heart rate and respiratory rate (thereby using the remaining red blood cells more efficiently) but this is unsustainable and doesn't work once you lose a certain amount of blood.

Now, let's do some math: whole blood lasts about 40 days under refrigeration. You cannot freeze it to make it last longer because that destroys the red blood cells and makes it toxic. It takes about 40-60 days to regenerate the amount of red blood cells necessary for one bag of blood. Which leaves him with one bag intermittently (if he donated every 40 days he'd have to skip one or two donations a year to recoup his chronically increasing deficit, and if he donated every 60 days the current bag would expire 20 days before he could donate again).

Now, considering he's young and healthy, he could probably train his body to make red cells faster, which might be enough to close the gap (over the course of a year or so), giving him one bag consistently. If he wanted this more quickly, he could take erythropoeitin, a hormone that forces the body to make more red blood cells. Assuming he's taking iron supplements and eating enough, he'd be able to maintain that consistent single bag of blood outside his body.

All that to say, he would never get close to 6 bags of his own blood consistently outside his body without being super dead.

Sewing up the skin is either a vaguely bad idea (if it was through the trapezeius muscle), or completely useless (if through the shoulder). If it was through the trap, we'd at least want to pack it so it didn't get infected. If it were through the shoulder proper, he needs surgery to repair the bone, blood vessels, or nerves that were damaged (and there's nowhere in the shoulder where you can get shot and not hit one of these things).

Also, by the time Diggle has stopped the bleeding, hung a bag of blood, and sewn up the skin (probably at least 20 minutes, if he were really quick about it), Oliver is still unconscious. No one seems to be that worried about this. In real life, unconsciousness is life threatening. Especially someone so unconscious they're tolerating getting their gunshot wound sewed up without anesthesia. This man has a GCS of 3. Which is the same as that of a chair.

Aaaand he's having a seizure. GCS of 3 and a seizure tells me this does not look good. Are we sure he didn't hit his head really badly at some point when the cameras weren't rolling? At least ativan would stop a seizure? Like they were right about that. I guess.

Ope, now he's coding. Just elevated heart rate to flatline in one second flat. Hate it when that happens.

Nobody is starting CPR. For reference, that's what you do when someone doesn't have a pulse.

Also we're trying to defibrillate him. He is in asystole (flatline). Without going into too much detail, a defibrillator stops a bad heart rhythm and you just hope the heart starts back up in the correct rhythm. Asystole is no rhythm to begin with. So if you shock someone in asystole, not only is nothing going to happen, but you're risking damaging the heart muscle. The only thing that works on asystole is medication like epinephrine (which they are not giving). Which needs CPR to get to the heart. Which, again, they are not doing.

Also with the serial shocks. So. Thing about this is that serial shocks used to be a thing. Briefly. About 20 years before this episode aired. But it turned out that they took too much time away from CPR, and didn't really work well enough to justify it.

Oh, but he lived!

"Pray we don't have a heart attack outselves" Diggle, that was cardiac arrest, sir. If Oliver had had a heart attack, we would be in a world of other problems.

The loose lead thing is real. Sort of. Leads coming loose is definitely a thing but the monitors are smart enough to know when it's a lead wiggling or off vs v-fib or asystole. And they were in 2012 too.

And he woke up! A miracle given everything that just happened and the care he received for it.

[mysteriesmuse]

“Are you sure it’s such a good idea letting all these trolls and wizards into your home, Claire?” Jim asked. “Not really,” she whinced. Tonight Claire had given herself (and Jim) the task of preparing a full course for their guests. There between them lay a notebook with a list for tonight: The Guacamole Queen’s special guac and chip recipe, thrifted silverware, chorizo tacos, socks generously “donated” by Coach Lawerence via Steve, and the infamous Camelot-meat-pies that they tried while time traveling (she’d and Jim had been working for months to perfectly recreate the recipe). So far they’d gotten through with the guac, socks, and silverware . . . if some baby brother would stop eating all the appetizers.

Claire swatted at NotEnrique’s arm as he snatched another a sock from the bowl on the kitchen island. “Hey—!”

Brother and sister shared a look across the kitchen. “— anyways as I was gonna’ say, yous’ was only blamed two times— but now that the fleshbag mom and dad are in the know there’s no reason we can’t move our meetings to a cushier joint than your basement.” “Alright, alright that’s fair,” Jim conceded, “but I better not get blamed for ruining the Nunez house.”

“Again.” he added. “If anything goes wrong! I was never here!”

“Trust me, Jim. I think this will be really great for our friends. Where else are they going to get to talk about this kind of stuff? Plus imagine what kinds of lives they’ve already led. I mean,” crunch, “— Douxie is over 900 years old,” satisfied she slung another chip into the fresh guac and passed the bowl it in front of Jim. “I mean, we don’t know how old Blinky and Arrrghhhh! are, but they have got to be much older than that. I mean hosting this event is the least I can do after everything they’ve done for us.” Jim swallowed, almost choking. “You know I’ve never thought to ask . . .” He shook his head, “if anything starts to get out of hand with these magic geezers then you’ve got your trusty troll hunting boyfriend here!” “Uh-huh and if my parents ask?” She teased. Jim looked into his girlfriend’s big brown beautiful eyes and rounded the countertop to place the chips and guacamole out for their guests, “then I was never here!” And that’s how it ended up being immortal game night at the Mayor Nunez’s house . . . ————— From their kitchen hideaway the host couple waited barricaded behind the kitchen island as their guests poured into the living room enemies, allies, mentors, friends, and ultimately family. SCRABBLE went off to a smashing start . . . Nothing quite like explaining, validating, and bickering over each. and. every. single. word. as Latin, Spanish, trollish, and now alien-ese was added to the mix by Stuart. (Of which none of the others would let him use.) Douxie’s girlfriend defended a word by demonstrating the spell on him as Strickler and Blinky firmly argued that it wasn’t a word. It was. It was a nearly useless parlor trick spell that swaps your bellybutton from an inny to an outy. Fun. NotEnrique started to secretly eat Blinky’s, Stricklers, and Douxie’s vowels to hault their winning scores — until they caught him. “Oi kid, that’s bad form!” “Indeed, perhaps if you’d surrounded yourself with books you’d be as good at this game as us scholars!!” And eventually ARRRGH fed up and overwhelmed by the constant slew of words and fighting passing over his head ATE the board . . . (Blinky was in the led.)

—————— MONOPOLY was simply a bad idea . . . Blinky kept doing math while wildly gesturing with all four of his arms the entire game thus, smacking Strickler and Draal in the face, and was WAY too into being the bank teller. Nomura and NotEnrique had somehow managed to gain a three quarters monopoly on the board (and turned evil again) — despite the wizards subtle magical money laundering, which was only fueling the math god fire that possessed Blinky because as it turns out Jim learned from Claire that “Duplications spells are child’s play!”

and everyone was eternally suffering from the whole corner taxation, lots of groans and growls and glowing eyes, but Jim and Claire couldn’t help but snicker as they watched from in the kitchen. “No, Draal and I are not selling our yellow square, not after you ate the last of the meat pies!” In the end the changlings prevailed against Arcadias mighty hero’s and as if defeat wasn’t enough . . . they bragged the rest of the evening. —————— By Deya’s grace, The Voting Game, seemed to unfurl at breakneck speed. Perhaps it was because they all felt better after a quick snacking interlude courtesy of Chefs Jim and Claire. Who would be the last person on the shore if everyone was skinny dipping? Naturally Zoe won without question although a few ringers for Stuart as someone they wouldn’t want to skinny dipping with — rude! “I’m not that smelly am I?” a frantic shout of “yes!” came from the group. “yes, and I don’t even know you that well,” Zoe sighed pinching her nose, “which to be clear, is the only reason I wouldn’t be skinny dipping with all of you.” “yeah, she’s rather informal about her bathing.” Douxie added. Which earned him a proper elbow to the ribs, “Ouch!” “Shut. Up!” Which person would come back as a ghost? “Mordrax’s Miracles! ARRRGH my friend, you’ve already done this!”

“True. Have already.” “So do we choose to choose another bloke or do we go with the obvious?” “Well are we picking someone in our history that is already deceased or are we picking amongst us here in the room?”

“I’d say we pick from in here.”

“If that’s the case then . . .” The entire living room glanced over to the kitchen. ARRRGH said what they were all thinking, “Jim.” “Lively.” “Ditto.” “couldn’t have said it better me’ self. okay next — “

Who started a rumor that isn’t true, but everyone thought it was? An overwhelming amount of 5s. The culprit emitted a nervous laugh. “So come on, lay it on us wizard boy.” “Hisirdoux, don’t even think about it!” Archie growled from his spot on the top of the chair. Douxie laughed as the gang shouted in a frenzy. They quieted, “I am guilty as charged, but for what I can’t say. It would corrupt your sense of reality.” His familiar grinned back at him. “Precisely because you all believe it to be true.” He added with a nod. “A CONSPIRACY!!” ————— Eventually they forgot about the games (Blinkys conspiracy conniption diverting attention) and simply talked.

The card and board pieces forgotten on the board as they all munched on churros brought by Stuart, and watched a pie brought by Strickler courtesy of the Trollhunters mother. There was something cathartic and simply invigorating as sharing their life’s before they meet these predestined allies! Blinky spoke about the early Americas and his unfortunate near-death experience with a buffalo a month into life in the new world. And ARRRGGHH shared how he saved him — that time — and 17 other times just from buffalos alone in the new world. “They were a serious problem amoung troll kind in the early days!” “Just Blinky.” Stuart went on about the absolute best side of the space race story. Strickler and Nomura sitting on the ends of their seats with the most receptive feedback, nearly yelling like it was all a great big soccer match. And not, in fact, a great big scientific milestone. Draal and the trolls gave an interesting and disgusting angle on of one of the best underground prohibition bars which caused Arch and Douxie to sit up perk up. “—so you’re telling me as a customer I was unknowingly drinking glug? I’ve been in the food industry for centuries and this doesn’t pass any laws!” “Pretty much.” And at the end of the night when the apple pie he brought sat sadly and predictably untouched Stricklander commanded the room. A dark and twisted tale of his time teaching and unknowingly working alongside a decorated detective as he uncovered clues about the towns most infamous murder (not to mention the only real human inflicted murder). No one knew Arcadia Oaks High had such a deep true crime history. “It began to get increasingly difficult to remain undercover as a channeling in the Janus Order as Detective Miller investigated at our school. And each Tuesday like clockwork I would stay up listening to the radio in the evening as I worked to help keep the pieces of the story that got tangled in with us away from the public eye. Now one night I had discovered that . . .” Even Claire had slowly migrated from the kitchen as the gang gasped and laughed at Stricklers amazing story. She stood next to her magic teacher by the arm of her couch and NotEnrique passed her a greasy churro where she stood.

Jim could only chuckle and smile watching, as his girlfriend simultaneously took a bite out of her churro in one hand and petted Archie with the other to soothe her nerves. Jim stood in the kitchen still. This was home. Aliens, Trolls, Wizards and all. Douxie leaned back and peered past his girlfriend. He waved him over. Jim stood beside Claire before a healthy serving of churros was shoved into his hands. His soon-to-be stepfather indulged in the crowds reaction. Jim bit into his churros. . . “Now, as you guessed, the bureaucratic decision of using goblins to destroy evidence was a terrible idea. It wasn’t in my jurisdiction, nor would it have been my decision . . .” The welcome taste of cinnamon and sugar danced on his tongue; this was a good idea after all.

[jellybeanium124]

Stede excused himself from the brightly lit ballroom with two hundred chatting people and loud band to go to the bathroom. He sat on the toilet for five minutes in the brightly lit bathroom as other fundraiser guests walked in and out, doing their business and washing their hands.

All he wanted to do was go home. He didn't want to talk, he didn't want to be wearing a suit, he didn't want a fancy meal. This was unusual for Stede. He normally loved wearing a fancy suit while eating a fancy meal and talking nonstop, but he was tired and his whole head and body was buzzing. His suit felt too tight and itchy, and he swore he could feel tags rubbing against him, and his shoes hurt.

He left the stall and washed his hands and started wandering around. He shouldn't be doing this, abandoning the party to snoop around like a curious child, but he couldn't go back in there. What was he supposed to do? Go find Mary and stand behind her while she talks like a functioning adult? He didn't even know why he felt like crap.

The entire building the party was being hosted in was bright and fancy, but at least here in a random hallway with benches and candelabras on the walls and plush velvet carpeting, it's quiet.

He turned a corner and saw a man sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall where a bit of it juts out to form a small corner. He's got his knees tucked up to his chest.

"Sir, are you okay?" Stede asked, walking over to the man.

He looked surprised to see someone. "What? Yes, yeah, I'm fine. I'm with the fundraiser benefit, that's why I'm here. I just... needed a break."

"Me too."

"...You wanna sit?"

"Ok."

Stede sat down on the carpet next to the man, and stretched his legs out.

"I'm Stede," he said, holding out his hand.

"Stede??" the man echoed, shocked. "Shit, Stede Bonnet?"

"Um... yes?"

The man seemed to grow shyer, and looked away. Stede put his hand down. Then he pulled his knees up and sighed.

"You've probably read those articles, right? About Bonnet Suits? Where I'm the silly spoiled son of an evil Disney villain?"

"Yeah... might've..."

"Well, Mr. Teach was right about some things. My father is evil. There's no appealing to his humanity no matter what. He won't make any of the changes I want to make in the company. That's why everyone thinks I'm so useless. Maybe all my ideas are stupid anyways... I just have stupid ideas..."

"What are your ideas?"

"Pay every single employee who works in the factories making suits for us the equivalent of $15 an hour. Every single one. I've done the math 40 different ways, it's possible! We could pay them more, but I've got to start somewhere. My father always shuts me down and tells me I'd be throwing away hundreds of millions in profits. I've stopped trying to convince him to do something by explaining how this will help the people who make the suits that made him fucking wealthy beyond his wildest dreams, and right now I'm working the whole 'everyone loves human rights this will get us more customers and we can charge more if people think we're sustainable' angle but even that's not working. I can't take it anymore. I have a little boat. I bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift to myself. It's sitting at a pier in Rhode Island right now. No one knows about it. Not my father, not my wife... once I grow some balls I'm going there and getting on my boat and I'm not coming back."

The man blinked at him.

"Sorry... fuck... I don't know why I said all of that. Fuck, there's journalists at this thing. I'm supposed to be doing good for my father's reputation, not sitting in a hallway talking about what a piece of shit he is..."

The man swallowed. "Yeah..."

"Enough about my stupid problems, you really don't seem okay. Are you sick? Should..." Stede cut himself off and looked at the floor.

"Should...?"

Stede shook his head. "Nothing. You came out here for some peace and quiet, and I'm fucking it all up. I can go now."

"I wouldn't mind if you sat and we had peace and quiet together."

Stede smiled at him briefly, before leaning his head back against the wall and letting out a sigh.

For a few minutes, the two of them sat together in silence. It felt a little good, at least, to know that there was someone else here who couldn't stand to be at that party longer than thirty minutes. A kindred spirit, maybe. A potential friend.

"I'm Ed Teach," the man said quietly, after a few minutes had passed.

Stede's heart dropped through the floor.

He was sitting next to the man who called him an ineffectual, under-qualified, empty-headed heir to a despicable fashion fortune. And he was right.

"Oh," Stede said.

"That's it? 'Oh?' You're not going to have me thrown out? No yelling? You're not even gonna bribe me to stop talking about your dad's company and the shit he pulls?"

Stede shrugged. "Eh, we deserve worse."

"You're a lot different than I thought you'd be."

"You're a lot different too. I thought you'd be a ruthless and mean sneaky journalist."

Ed sighed. "It's hard being like that all the time... I thought you'd be a prick. A real entitled asshole."

Stede smiled gently. "At least one thing my father never gave me was his personality."

Ed nodded. "But y'know, if you're really serious about change, why don't you just fucking do it? Stop waiting for your dad's approval, go to Cambodia and Bangladesh, and pay them out of your own pocket? Running away to Rhode fuckin' Island isn't gonna help anyone."

Stede cocked his head at him curiously. "Could I do that? Go behind my father's back and just... pay them out of my own savings? Is that legal?"

"I mean, you can give people money. You can write checks. You could write me a check right now. That'd be legal."

Stede raised an eyebrow. "Writing a check for my nemesis journalist? That'd be awful suspect, even if it's legal."

"Okay okay okay not me specifically, but, like, you can do that. You can write checks. I know you're sitting on millions and millions of dollars, Bonnet."

"Okay," Stede said, standing up. "Let's go."

"Let's?"

"Yes. Let's go. Fuck em."

Ed stood up. "Now?"

Stede nodded. "Now. Let's get our passports and board the first plane we can. I'm going behind my father's back, like you suggested."

"And you want me... to come with you?"

"Of course. Presumably I'll need a journalist on my side when this shitstorm goes public," Stede said with a manic smile.

~~~

Obviously, our juvenile stunt didn't immediately solve everything. Bonnet Sr. still had access to Stede's finances, and drained his bank accounts so the millions he gave out in checks would bounce. But our stunt wasn't without its value. It immediately brought public attention to Bonnet Suits, and the fashion industry and its abuses in general. Bonnet Sr.'s now infamous meltdown during his interview for Reuters caused him to step down as CEO, leaving Stede to take over. Over the course of the following year, Stede made sweeping reforms inside the company, all according to plans he'd spent years trying to get his father to implement. Yesterday he publicly announced that he's retiring, and now here I am, retiring as well. People often compare us to Romeo and Juliet, with one reporter who shall remain nameless calling us "just as fockin stupid as those teenage twats." And perhaps we are just as stupid and headstrong as them. I did get on a plane to Bangladesh with a billionaire approximately 5 hours after meeting him (he'd never flown on a commercial flight before, he was adorably excited about trying the "airplane food" and requested a pin with wings on it like kids get). But now it's been well over a year, and I'm still stupidly in love with him, so up yours. I'm going to retire and spend the rest of my days eating fresh lobster rolls and relaxing on my husband's little boat. Journalism has no doubt taken years off my life, so I'm going to spend whatever time I have left happy.

Take it sleazy, Ed Teach

[zakib777]

complaining about season 2, again

I’m so bad at how they handled my boy jayce. In the first season he is shown to be very determined and kind hearted. But the issue is that he gets tunnel vision and before he knows, what he thought was right ends up causing more damage, this tunnel vision is what leads many to take advantage of him. Those that are close to him (Caitlyn) take advantage of his kindness and make a mess that he gets mixed up in. The whole scene where cait uses jayce’s seal to release vi (and indirectly unleash hell) wouldn’t have happened if not for Jayce’s desire to let Caitlyn feel independent. He wanted to make up for his offer and allow Caitlyn some independence, which only leads to jinx losing more and more of herself. So far this is pretty good writing.

then comes season 2, completely sacrificing jayce for the sake of that age of ultranationalist plot. He went through hell because uhhh the herald could only be stopped with time travel… and they just brushed off the fact that they were on the edge of full civil war because writing a noxian attack was easier and quicker. They took away jayce’s agency to make that messy plot make sense (which it still doesn’t, not really) and all that talk about breaking the cycle proved to be useless. Jayce’s dream cannibalised him and he wasn’t given a chance to use his knowledge for good, outside of his tunnel vision for magic. He was still a scientist and could’ve done much good without resorting to magic. It would’ve made more sense for his arc to survive and help ekko build the two cities after the after math of a civil war.

then there’s the Warwick thing, which I believe was unnecessary. It was a plot device to bring the sisters together. Because I guess there was no other way for them to reunite… except there was m a CIVIL WAR ARC. anyway, I’m done, I’m right and won’t accept criticism.

[hollow-lime-green]

Fanfic Writer Interview

This looks fun!

How many works do you have on AO3?

55!

Which is not what is listed lol. This is maybe a good time to mention that I actually have a side PWP AO3 although I haven't used it in a while, and haven't written any PWP for JJK. So only go check it out if you like FE3H rarepairs or Hades, I guess.

And if you do the math between my two accounts, you still won't get up to 55 because a few of those are actually posted anon. I did some kinkmeme fills for the FE3H fandom and while I'm not ashamed of the content lol, I did those as more of a writing reset thing and they're not as edited/polished as I would like? So I just don't want them under my real accounts.

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

So first, just, full disclaimer - kudos is not a good stats metric to judge your fics. Kudos amount is not sensitive to quality, it is sensitive to fandom size, fic type (pwp vs plot-driven, oneshot vs multichapter, au vs canon), rating, and length. Please god do not ever judge based on flat kudos.

A better metric (which by the way you should still not care about metric when you do Enjoyable Hobbies) is hit:kudos ratio, which I find is almost always around 10:1. If I want to see how well a oneshot does, that's a good metric. Repeat readers can't give repeat kudos, so that metric is useless for multichapters.

Anyway this is why it's good to comment on the fics that you like - the nice words people say to you are infinitely more valuable and better than numbers. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

A Real Breakthrough - Arcane Jayvik, PWP, 4.3k Set in S1 Act 1 (so no spoilers for S2)

Yeah so this is my most kudosed fic and it is not even close. I love this fic, I snapped with this fic, however it is also the only thing I have ever written for Arcane so it's like this one massive outlier on my AO3.

2. it's not gay unless the domains touch - JJK Stsg 40k

It's a little surprising to me that this one has so many more kudos than 2sorcs, but that has more to do with a.) if you like 2sorcs you'll go back and read domains, whereas you may read domains and not go on to 2sorcs and b.) fandom life cycle and when domains was coming out vs 2sorcs coming out after JJK ended

3. Bend the Knee - Hades Thesterius PWP 3.6k

Ahahahaha i forgot about this fic, I did snap with it though. I will play Hades 2 when it actually full releases and then I'll probably be insufferable. Hades fandom was very very fun and friendly, especially the Thesterius subsection. It may have been the nicest and most accepting fandom I've been in.

4. two sorcerers chillin' in a hot tub (five feet apart cause they're not gay) - JJK Stsg 115k

she's up there! she's on the board!

5. The Torment of Stillness - Hades Charmes PWP 4.4k

good for her, I didn't realize this fic had done so well

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i really try to respond to all my comments, or if someone writes a bunch I'll respond to them as a group. I struggle to write comments myself, even when I absolutely love a fic, so to me it's no small thing when people take the time to comment, and responding is a way I can say 'thank you' and 'hi yes i am a real person and your effort has made me tangibly happy'. plus like, we're all doing this for community, and community only happens when we actually talk to each other. interaction is the life blood of fandom, and it's how you make friends :)

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

weelllll I don't really write sad endings tbh. and maybe that's giving away the game a little bit with FIYM but I promise it's gonna be a tough road to the happy ending there. so if i had to pick one, it would be a Satoru POV piece but it almost doesn't count to me because those aren't exactly 'endings'. for that, I'd probably say the uncertainty principle (JJK STSG 1.4k) is the angstiest. it's also not really a plot story, so not really an ending, but I think 'angstiest character study' still counts.

by my definitions though, I am going to nominate Swan Song (FE3H Balthuri, 9.4k) This one is more full bore angst, although I think the ending is... optimistic? I really like this fic, although it is for a tiny tiny niche ship.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

uuuuuuuhhhhhhhh. how do you even measure happy? also i don't have a lot of longfics with 'endings' because i'm a piece of shit with abandoned wips (i am so sorry FE3H)

I'm going to say Limitless (Hades Patrochilles, 1.1k)? It's not a lot of plot to be ending but I think it's probably the most feel good? Second nomination to Condemned (Hades Thesterius, 7.5k) which has a little more plot.

Do you write crossovers?

not exactly. I write AUs, but I don't generally cross characters over, which I feel like is more of what 'crossover' entails. No hate, just not something I feel particularly compelled to do.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

nope. literally never. it is extremely rare on AO3 (in my experience) unless you are dealing a Really Big Ship and you run into people with extreme T/B or characterization preferences. I have seen friends get hate, esp in Big Ships in the FE3H community, so I know it is a real thing that exists, but I have fully dodged it.

the closest thing I've ever gotten is someone being like "ew, you wrote Ares/Dionysus?? that's incest!"

but all you can do with that is laugh, because... my brother in christ, do you know Greek canon?

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

yep. lots. I don't know what 'what kind' means, but I write all kinds. with and without plots, with and without inhuman genitalia, with and without consent.

i currently only have mlm and mlmonster posted, but i have written (and not been happy enough to post) wlw and het. hopefully that eventually changes, because I do feel bad that I don't have more equal opportunity smut out there. women are great we love women. i just don't feel like I write wl well enough yet.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i don't think so!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

i have had someone ask, i don't know if they ever posted, it is still an extremely high compliment and it makes me smile that someone even wanted to do it.

i have had a fic recorded, which is definitely my peak (The Prince of Roses, FE3H Ashedue Sleeping Beauty AU 1k/6min). that was so cool. podficcers are very cool, they are doing god's work, and I would totally do it if I didn't hate my voice.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no, and I think I would be a nightmare to work with, because I am very particular about everything.

however, i love love love collabing with artists and I have done that several times. and I would love to do more!

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

FE3H Balthuri. It's so niche but it's so good. Balthus has a lot of depth to him if you look past the surface. And Yuri's backstory is an incoherent, impossible spaghetti bowl caused by the creative team not being able to say no to any single idea. love them.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

The Lion of Kupala - Balthuri Canon Divergent AU 30k Political Intrigue

i think my plot ideas for this fic were very interesting, but the amount of effort I put into the atmosphere building and stuff was burning me out compared to the size of the community. and I would expect the fandom for this ship is basically dead these days so if I did go back to it, it would be a pretty solitary labor of love. I am unlikely to finish my Ashedue fics either, but I am significantly more likely to finish those because there's more potential that people might cheer me on and help me get to the finish line for that ship.

What are your writing strengths?

comedy, apparently! i didn't really write comedy until JJK, so that was kind of a surprise.

i would probably say characterization too. different reads on characters are (or, can be) equally valid because you're working with limited text. I think the key is staying consistent.

i'm very good at dialogue matching if there is a good enough sample size to draw from, which I don't think there is for lots of manga. i don't think my dialogue matching is good for JJK, especially with the translation from JP making some of the ENG sound unnatural in the actual manga. but I think for my other fandoms, I did pretty good

What are your writing weaknesses?

action for sure. and people are very nice to me about my action scenes, but they are for sure the hardest pieces for me to write and they take a long time for me to conceptualize and wrangle into coherent words.

these days, atmosphere has been a weakness too, I think. i used to really focus on that in my writing, but it has been more fun to be a little more dialogue and plot driven vs super rich moments. that's part of why I burned out on some of my FE3H fics. it takes a lot of mental energy for me in the writing process to constantly check in on scene setting/atmosphere.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

clarity is the most important thing - your reader should understand what you are saying and be drawn into the context of the world. sometimes writing dialogue in other languages adds, sometimes it subtracts. does the character understand that language? if so, they should hear it in the reader's language so that is understood. if they don't, then it should be given outside of the reader's language. and in that case, you should always have your specific translation in the end notes (if you want the reader (not the character) to know what was said), or you lose some clarity/intent.

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

Chainsaw Man.

when i started FIYM, the other Big Project I was looking at was a multipart 'X Lives and Here's Exactly How it Could Work in Canon". but i didn't find the ship very compelling and it takes a lot for me to write gen because I find the community is better/more active for ship fics. so we went with FIYM even though my idea was less fleshed out (narrator: that would soon change).

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

string theory (JJK, stsg, E, 17.4k)

which is funny because it's the only piece of FIYM that was totally unscreened by betas, it took the least time to write (proportionally), and I wrote it when I was probably at my lowest with anxiety, sleep deprivation, and stress.

actually right before I started therapy lol.

'tortured artists' or something like that

Ty for the tag @marichild <3 Tagging: @detta-pica @fireflywitch @ anyone else who wants to do it :))

[irondad-defensesquad]

EDIT: Also posted on AO3!

--

Peter wakes up late.

Arguably, it’s the weekend. Even then, he’s not someone who sleeps until afternoon. Mainly because someone wakes him for breakfast and to get through the day. And on some weekends, he even has breakfast in bed.

It’s 12 PM when he opens his eyes, hearing no noises out of his room.

Indeed, when he gets out of bed, Peter doesn’t find any signs of life in the Compound. Breakfast is not set. And as far as he’s concerned, no one is in the workshop, for he cannot hear any loud rock music coming from it.

“Um… F.R.I.D.A.Y?” Peter looks at the ceiling. “Where’s Mr. Stark?”

“Boss is currently in a series of meetings. He’ll be back by the evening. He said there’s coffee ready, and food in the fridge to heat up.”

“Oh.”

The boy realizes he’s still wrapped by his blanket, as Peter hugs it close.

“Would you like me to call Boss?” F.R.I.D.A.Y asks.

“No, no, I just wanted to know. Thanks.”

“You can let me know if you need him.”

“It’s okay, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

She doesn’t insist. The house goes silent again.

He wants her to come back.

But he doesn’t say that.

So, Peter goes on with his day. He eats his cereal and he doesn’t mix the coffee with milk like he usually does. He doesn’t like black coffee like Tony does… but it doesn’t feel wrong this time. Peter tries sending messages to Ned and MJ, but they both have plans for today so they won’t be able to talk much today. Aunt May is out of town, hence why Peter is staying over. She does ask if everything is okay, and Peter reassures her he’s fine. May tells him to count on Tony with anything he needs.

Peter just sends her a smiling emoji.

He decides not to talk to Karen. One, putting his suit in the Compound for no reason other than to chat with someone is weird. Second, she would certainly let Tony know, and his mentor would immediately tell something is wrong.

Peter goes to the workshop. He greets DUM-E. As much as he loves the little bot, DUM-E only beeps and Peter has not yet figured out his language. The arachnid doesn’t have anything to fix on his suit. He asks F.R.I.D.A.Y if Tony needs any help with his projects (his mentor has given him permission to help him out if he wants). But apparently, there isn’t anything to be fixed.

Right. Nothing in the workshop, then.

Peter tries watching TV. He doesn’t really focus. He checks his phone but there aren’t any new messages. His friends are too busy for him. Time is passing very slowly. It’s not even mid afternoon and Tony will take forever to come back.

Finally, he goes back to his room. He needs to get his math homework done, anyway. Peter gets his earphones ready and he starts reading the book, his notebook page blank, waiting for his train of thought.

Except the music is too distracting. Even if he lowers the volume, it doesn’t help. But if he pauses it entirely, Peter’s thoughts are going to scream louder.

His notebook judges him. The words and instructions in his book don’t make sense. Even though Peter re-reads over and over again, they only get more confusing, and he loses more patience, as his head pounds.

Ask for help, a little voice says inside him.

Help for what? Homework?

It’s not just homework.

But it’s not important.

Everyone has better things to do.

Peter growls, breaking his pencil in half with a lot of ease, then dropping the meaningless pieces on the floor. He can’t bring himself to fix it or simply throw in the garbage. It’s just a stupid pencil anyway.

His book is slowly consumed by teardrops.

Countless.

Like it’s raining right in it.

Only Peter is the big storm cloud that can’t make it stop. That can’t do the most basic of things.

He can’t take it anymore.

He sobs. A lot. Loud.

It probably echoes in the penthouse.

People won’t hear it, though.

Peter covers his eyes, now wetting his hands instead of the book. The music is still playing and it’s mocking him. You’re stupid. You’re useless. You can’t do anything right.

He cries for a good couple of minutes. It only grows louder and more painful. Peter doesn’t know why he’s like this. He can handle things alone. He has always handled everything on his own and he never broke down like this. Why is he like this now?

The emptiness around him is engulfing him. It’s empty like his apartment when Uncle Ben died. Peter couldn’t sleep for days when it happened. Mostly because he was distracted trying to save other people’s lives, to prevent another tragedy from happening.

But there’s no one to save.

Peter is trapped.

He can’t do this.

He can’t do this.

He can’t…

…

Someone is knocking on the door.

“Peter?”

Suddenly, he’s back in the bedroom, the book and notebook are just… school objects. They aren’t saying anything.

Peter is too shocked to even open his mouth.

“Peter, I’m coming in.”

Shit. Fuck.

The boy hides himself, turning away from the door, also using his arm to try and pretend the tears aren’t there.

“M-Mr. Stark! I thought- Why”– the teen gulps, unsure what to say that won’t blow his cover. He fears he’s failed anyway –“What’re you doing here?”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y called me, she said you needed me.”

Even though Tony doesn’t sound annoyed in the slightest, Peter only feels pathetic and ashamed of the last three words.

“Y-You didn’t have to come here, Mr. Stark.”

He senses Tony approaching.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” the man patiently requests.

“I don’t know! Something is wrong with- with my brain!” Peter lashes out. He hates himself for that. Despite that, Tony doesn’t get angry. “I tried to distract myself but there was nothing to fix in the lab, TV didn’t help, and not even my stupid homework helps because I’m stupid-!”

“Hey, hey, hey…” Tony is kneeling down next to him. “You’re not stupid. It’s okay.”

Peter cries again with the other’s soft voice. “I can’t do anything, Mr. Stark.”

“That’s okay. You just need a break, kiddo.”

“Yeah, but…”

It’s not just a break that he needs.

“... what’s the point if I’m just gonna be alone?”

Tony gently places a hand on Peter’s arm. The boy finally looks back at him.

“I’m here. You’re not alone.”

“But what about your meetings? They must be more important.”

“You’re more important to me, Pete.”

He knows that, doesn’t he?

Why does it make Peter emotional anyway?

Regardless, Tony throws away the broken pencil for him.

“Come on, buddy,” he calls him, standing on his feet but waiting for Peter to follow him. Actually, he wants Peter to lead the way.

That way, the two end up at the couch. The TV is on and Peter couldn’t care less about what’s airing. Tony grabbed his blanket and wrapped him up in a burrito. Even though he’s wearing an expensive suit, he hugs Peter close and he starts telling him about the meetings today and how boring they were. He also talked shit about some of the people he had to debate with.

For the first time today, Peter smiles, at peace.

Everything is alright now.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟

Pardon the formatting! On my phone!

—-

129 for zombies

—-

“Hey, no,” Buck shakes his head. “I just… I wish I knew how to help.”

There’s nothing Buck could do to help beyond what he’s already done.

“You’re good,” Eddie whispers.

“How about we, uh…We go to your family’s and see about that?”

Eddie nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

There’s nothing else to do.

He feels hollow as they get back into the truck. Buck offers to drive and Eddie lets him. He wants to scream.

Could it be possible that all of this, every fucking risk, was for nothing?

▪️▪️▪️

Obviously, they don’t find any of Eddie’s family either. Their bags have been packed. Houses boarded up. They tried to leave.

Eddie really hopes they made it.

Though, he supposes he’ll never fucking know, will he?

That seems to be the theme of the day. There are no answers available. Eddie will spend forever wondering.

They crash at Abuela’s. There’s still furniture in the house. And even though it feels eerie and wrong to be there without her, at least there’s a roof over their heads. They’re exhausted, and make the call to go to sleep early, then leave to head back to Sunport as soon as they’re awake. Eddie sleeps on the couch, unable to bring himself to sleep in his grandmother’s room, while Buck sleeps on the bare mattress of the guest bed.

As the sun sets, Eddie finds himself unable to hold anything back anymore. Alone finally, he begins to cry.

He’s so incredibly frustrated. Frustrated and heartbroken. He thought he’d be able to track her down. He thought, despite all the things that were over and ruined because of the apocalypse, he could still hold onto the hope of closure with Shannon.

He’ll never get a chance to apologize.

He is always, always too late.

And Christopher will suffer for it.

Eddie feels a deep and dark well of self-loathing. He feels useless. He feels disastrous. He has no idea what the point is anymore. What’s the point of anything he’s done?

“Eddie?”

Fuck. He’s been too loud. He thought he was quieter. God, this is embarrassing.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Eddie tries to make him go away. He really doesn’t need any extra attention drawn to this.

“You don’t sound fine.”

Well, no. He’s not really. But he also doesn’t need the humiliation.

“I’ll be fine,” Eddie amends.

Buck doesn’t leave. “Do you want to talk about it?”

It’s too dark to see one another, so Buck doesn’t see the aghast look on Eddie’s face.

“No,” he replies.

“Should you anyway?”

Perhaps! But that doesn’t change the way the thought of talking about it makes him feel. Which is tense and tight and horrified.

“I just feel like a fool,” Eddie admits, shifting into a sitting position. “My son could have died for nothing. Now I have to go back and tell him we won’t find his mom. We’ll just never know.”

“He’ll know you tried,” Buck says. Eddie hears him walk closer. “That’s something.”

But is it enough? Eddie isn’t sure.

“Maybe,” he replies. “I just don’t know what to do from here.”

“You mentioned sisters?” Buck asks. Eddie has brought them up in passing a few times. “Where are they?”

“Yeah,” Eddie answers. “Sophia and Adriana. They traveled northeast with Sophia’s husband. In search of some safer coastal communities.”

“But you don’t know if they made it?” Buck guesses.

“No,” Eddie confirms.

Buck sighs. “Man, I’m sorry. I know… I know the uncertainty eats at you.”

Eddie doesn’t reply. The uncertainty had ended happily for Buck. Eddie doesn’t think he’s going to be so lucky.

“Honestly?” Buck continues. “Maybe just come back to Sunport for a while. It’s safe. Christopher has kids his age to play with. It’s a good place to rest and find a new plan.”

Eddie considers this. It’s probably the best thing to do. Buck is right. It’d be nice to give Chris some stability for a while. Let him be a kid. Spend time working on skills like reading and math, not Morse Code.

“I don’t want to overextend our welcome,” Eddie says cautiously.

“Oh, we’d put you to work,” Buck assures him. “You’re fit. Potentially have useful skills.”

“Potentially?” Eddie echoes, affronted.

“I don’t know,” Buck teases. “Can’t break down a door. Made me shoot the zombie…”

“I was upset!”

“Uh huh,” Buck replies doubtfully.

“Ask your sister how my shooting is,” Eddie grumbles.

“It’s okay. I can teach you the fishing nets. Maybe we can make some more.”

Just like that, Eddie knows he’s going to do what Buck suggests. Somewhere friendly. Somewhere safe for Chris. Somewhere where a handsome, shirtless man can teach him to make fishing nets on the beach. Okay, maybe he threw in some extra details on that one.

“Thank you, Buck,” Eddie says, sighing. “You’re right.”

[tomorrowillbeyou]

I'm always on those damn perfect numbers so 6 and 28

HAAIIIIIII BENNNNN OMG ... love perfect numbers very awsomeaauce... love u lots... abwyasy

6: age you get mistaken for

umm well i get mistaken for a high schooler a lot like yesterday someone asked me if i was excited to go back to school which happens a lotttt (people assuming im in school) it happened back in high school too people would ask me why i wasn't wearing uniform when i was in 6th form and didnt need to... or like why i was going in for lunch at the wrong time for my year group.... stuff like that .... and last june i got id'd for energy drinks which you have to be 16 to buy.. so i guess like 16 ish .. its actually really annoying LOL because i feel like a dick correcting them but i kind of have to to have any kind of conversation

28: a descritiption of the person i dislike the most

Omggggg this absolute cunt!!!!!!! who's in like half my classes. he sucks soooo bad ive actually posted about him a few times . he is sooooo loud and obnoxious and so unfunny he is always making like reddit tier maths jokes to anyone who will listen and ignoring their responses he lovessss nitpicking what people say or being super pedantic in situations where that is so unhelpful and its in such a smug way too like to prove that he's smarter than everyone else even though he frequently says stuff that is just completely wrong. loves to humble brag about literally anything and everything he's done the first time i ever met him i heard him from all the way up a long flight of stairs humble bragging loudly about all his piano grades. one time we were in a group meeting and this woman in charge asked my friend a question and he instantly started answering for her and then went Oh sorry was that addressed to you! and then instead of shutting up he just kept answering the question anyway. i can't even tell if he's a massive misogynist who loves talking over women or if he literally just does talk over everyone equally. drives me insane. he also clearly thinks being good at maths is like the most important thing in the world . i also think this but only for myself because its like a personal passion thing whereas he thinks anyone who isn't good at maths is a useless idiot who he can condescend to and make weird joke about. he is always going on about stupid shit like pineapples on pizza or the word moist that nobody gives a fuck about except internet losers. ive been in groups with him multiple times and it's literally so hard to remain civil and not start arguments with him over every single thing he says. i remember being in the room with him while he showed this guy his stupid fucking memes on r/mathmemes that he was so proud of his upvotes on and every time the guy tried to say something he'd get like 2 words in before this fucking guy said some other shit nobody cares about. Basically i hate him sooooo bad and hope he dies. i also feel horrible about this a lot because he's actually been nice to me a few times but then whenever i actually meet him again i stop feeling bad befause of how much he sucks. ok idid not realise how long this was getting i had a lot to unpack wrt this guy i guess. hate him Insufferable!!!!!!

[c0rpseductor]

sorry for blogging about this New Website Journey. idk why. im shy. Anyway

there's an intelligence kink group on here. i am not a sapiosexual but i am a pedant so i feel it may become dangerous for me

specifically someone was asking about like, "what is the closest phenomenon to explaining everything about life" and started going on about euler's spiral being in a bunch of stuff. i'm like, so close! you have noticed a pattern, not a model with any explanatory power.

anyway i actually do not want to annoy these people but i have to get it out somewhere: physics. you can technically model everything that way and thus "explain" all phenomena although it gets like. useless to the human brain, in terms of actual comprehension. but like the conjecture that Everythign Is A Simulation!!!!1 is bc you can technically reduce everything to math and model it On Da Computer. what fucking worm have they done this to, i remember reading a post where they made it possible to simulate the entire brain of a specific species of worm or some shit.

i barely remember anything about theoretical physics and likely didn't understand it adequately in middle school, and i'm not a mathematician, so i have only the slightest understanding of wtf im talking about, but i used to love this concept so i felt like if i didnt say it somewhere i was gonna die. ok. thank you for tolerating my fl adventure

[drearygenie]

day 1 one reminding myself my mother is disappointed in me and she loves me (word dump below)

my first panic attack was when I was 7 years old. all the emotions I knew by then were the main characters in Inside Out. mom held up my math workbook with two fingers and asked me why I had done so many wrong questions. I looked to the curtains. they were golden yellow, a color that was supposed to increase concentration. she continued to berate me, and I only listened to the parts where she said my work looked like a stupid girl made it, and only watched when she pointed to my useless drawings. her voice was getting louder by the minute, making my two chubby legs quiver. my sister then entered the room. she asked what was wrong and my mom explained the situation. my sister, 18 years old, turned to me and started yelling too. both of them surrounded me so i was presses against the big sliding glass door and curtain. I remember tears and snot dribbling down my face, and being so overwhelmed, like the weight of the house concentrated on the center of my chest. my legs gave way and I fell to the ground and my head felt compressed and I couldn't breathe and my body was screaming and I was screaming and the whole world was screaming.

when it was over the only thing my mom had to say was "다 돼서?"

Last winter my mom also got into crochet. within days she became ambitious enough that she wanted to make blankets. she asked around, who wanted a blanket first. my sister wanted the first one, she was the most excited. my brother didn't care what order, as long as he got one. I wanted to get it last, because it gave me the most time to study for exam season and then help her make my blanket. the first one she made was white Bernat yarn, and it was a little lumpy and too bright, but my sister liked the novelty anyways. the second was done in a week, with alternating stripes between yellow and cream. my brother enjoyed it a lot. once she got to me, she said she wanted to crochet a pattern with granny squares. I said sure, and picked out one with daisies in the center. she picked out some green yarn, which matched my hair at the time, and started working. I wasn't done with exams yet, but she wanted to keep working anyway. by the time I was done with my testing, I had stitched 6 of the 48 squares in the blanket, and had no time to stitch it up with her. she did it all alone and it was gorgeous. she laid it out on my bed and flopped onto it, her forehead dripping with sweat from crocheting underneath the blanket. I took a victory picture of her without her knowing. after, she planted a fat kiss on my forehead and told me to sleep well